Instant Instinct
by ccsketch
Summary: END CHAPT. In a highschool, the same as any, two people are set off on the wrong foot, and one pays the price while the other can't bare that truth. alter universe. rated for mild swearing thats it Char:Yzak,Shiho,Dearka,Miriallia,Athrun
1. part I

First/only fic that'll ever be by me

The whole story is actually in one day so not to confuse anyone after it stops.

Disclaimer: I dont own any character, I wish I did though. I do own the story line.

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"That _bastard_," he repeated in a murderous tone, stomping down the hallway. 

Again he was defeated by his adversary, Athrun Zala. With those midterm's marks he received, he was sure to have beaten his long term rival without a doubt. The only problem was his marks weren't equal or above Zala's.

"That _bastard," _he said again, "He did it again."

From his first encounter, no, first sight of that raven-haired teen, an overwhelming pressure had flowed through his veins. He felt an urge, an impulse to triumph over, to crush this individual.

And he could still remember that innocent smile Zala gave him. It made him pop a blood vessel.

Throughout two years, he'd tried to be the greater and greatest achiever; he'd only taken second-best and second place. Never had he won, rose above or was even equal to Zala at anything. From an academic course, to an athletic soccer match, his skills weren't good enough. He couldn't even win at chess, his game. How ever hard he'd worked, after every attempt, every game, every intimidating remark he'd thrown at that first-placed jinx, there was no stopping his own second-streak.

But he'd never admit defeat, no, no, no; he would never forfeit his pride or dignity to that-damned-inferior-green-eyed-bastard or anyone for that matter.

With all the mental power he could gather, Yzak calmly entered his planning room, took a seat at a random table, and tried to keep his clenched fist from rising and slamming onto the table. This he could do, yet the scowl on his face could not be suppressed by a few deep breathes.

"What's the matter Yzak," a familiar feminine said, placing her books on the table across from him, "Beaten again?"

Her words apparently sounded like a statement rather than a question.

Raising his head, he eyed her in annoyance through his bangs gritting his teeth; certain she had faked the concern in her voice.

"This has nothing to do with you!" he shouted rising abruptly slamming both hands onto the table.

He should have known _she_ would be the one to set off his mildly controlled state.

"Jule, can you _be_ any quieter?" she inquired, rolling her eyes, unfazed by his sudden outburst.

"Of course I can!" he barked, "WHEN YOU'RE IN HELL!"

Yzak glared sternly at her through his narrowed eyes, clearly unwelcoming her presence.

Her eyes widened starring at his frowning face.

"FINE THEN!" she shouted, seizing her books off the table. "I'll leave you and your _enormous _ego alone." she exclaimed, emphasizing her words, turning on her heal. Her hair swung over to her left, and she turned her head in his direction, "Have you _ever_ thought your competing was _always_ _one-sided_?" she said throwing him one last statement, "What else can't you realize."

Yzak thrust himself in his chair, and crossed his arms. If looks could kill, he'd have murdered her more than once and then over again and again.

"Hey Yzak!"

He took his eyes off the departed female, and darted them to the caller, answering with an angry grunt.

"So," his blond friend said, taking a seat in front of him, "why the temper today?"

Without answering Yzak threw a death glare at him that could freeze an army of elite soldiers on the spot, but knowing his best friend, it'd take more than an upside-down smile to stop his open mouth.

"Well...have you heard the _great_ _news!_?" he asked.

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Thats it for now this also isnt really a long story I dont think.  
Review please? You can flame if you want, flame in 36 flavours if you can, because this will be the only fic I may possibly write.  
(i'll answer questions if anyone, anyone has any-probably when theres confusion...) 

Anyway, ... Flame.If.You.Can. XP


	2. part II

well heres another ...part, and this was a one-shot...but i couldnt write it all in 1 shot.

* * *

"Well…have you heard the _great_ _news!_?" he asked.

Yzak opened his mouth to answer, but was immediately stopped by hands waving in his face. Grunting, he slapped them, and planned to bite if they didn't stop, thankfully they did.

Yzak knew his friend couldn't resist the temptation to spill the news, even if he had known what on earth it was. Understanding this, Yzak leaned back in his chair re-crossing his arms.

Grinning like an idiot, the blond couldn't hold the "great news" and spilled.

"Don't tell me, I'll tell you!" he burst. "Isn't it fantastic! Miriallia's family moved to that new apartment past my house. She'll finally get a chance to know me!" he said, jumping off his seat.

Frowning, he raised an eyebrow at the unsurprising excited blond.

Miriallia, Miriallia Haww, was the short mahogany-haired girl who his best friend fantasized for a long time over, inconceivably too long.

First his best friend had been going up to her, and telling her lame jokes. Nowadays he still did, but she'd be yelling at him to get the hell out of her face even before they were within speaking range.

Watching his best friend boast everyday about this girl, who'd turn the other way at the sight of him, was greatly irritating, and highly annoying. How Dearka had become more and more love-sick and high-strung over her everyday was a mystery to him.

He was truly blinded, blinded in obvious puppy love, and Yzak considered it to be a severe case of excessive obsession, of a horrendous disease he'd never likely catch.

"You bother her everyday, and have been in the same school since grade 6." Yzak frowned, "Can you not hear her screaming at you? She hates you, period."

"Well then it's my chance to change her impression of me!" Dearka answered happily, patting him self on the back.

"To make things better you can now stalk her 24-7."

The blonde's eye's widened and shook his head frantically, "I'm not− not a stalker!"

"Maybe she'll catch you on film, peeking through her windows, or behind a bush." Yzak smirked, "Perverted Stalker Staked on Film", she'll adore you even more for giving her a top story for the school's paper."

"NO!" Dearka's exclaimed, as a noticeable tinge of pink spread on the cheeks of his tanned coloured skin.

The blond cleared his throat, "So why were you explosive a few minutes ago?"

Yzak narrowed his eyes, and began to frown again.

To be reminded of that previous argument with _her_ was not a good way to start conversation, because not only did she cause him to release his temper, she'd also left before he had a chance to stand up for himself. How unspeakably unbelievable had she been saying all _that_ about him, and then left like nothing had happened.

She'd gone and ignored him before he opened his mouth to retort.

"You argued with her today? _Today_?" he asked, shaking his head. "So you _forgot_?"

Yzak grunted, "She started it, and I don't forget anything."

"You lost the battle," Dearka answered, "_and_ you forgot."

"_Shut up_."

With a sharp mind such as his, there wasn't anything he'd forget. His nearly photographic memory wouldn't ever fail him even if he'd given it the chance to. What Dearka said he'd _forgotten_ must have been temporarily misplaced in his mind, not forgot. It'd most likely come back to him within the hour, no dilemma.

"Okay, fine." Dearka said, placing his palms together as if some spiritual leader, and then bowed, "There is no need for childish hissy fits young grasshopper."

"I'm _not_ having a fit you praying mantis!"

The blonde shook his head in disbelief. "If I didn't know you _any_ better I'd have thought you were trying to get her attention or something." Dearka piped up. He coughed, "_Flirting_ Jule, _flirting_."

"DEARKA" he barked.

Yzak flung his fist, and knew that if that best friend had left a millisecond too late, that grinning face would have an additional black eye on it, and Haww would personally thank him for the quiet two weeks.

* * *

ccsketch: the character's are quite out of character aren't they... 


	3. part III

hello...review?

* * *

"Still 11:52 Am." he muttered after his staring at the clock.

It was going to be one of those days, where even seconds were going too slowly. One of those everlasting days that would drag on long after forever had ended.

Yzak sat up and stared upfront, unable to make an expression.

His chemistry professor's voice was steadily fading away, as if it evaporated into vapour at room temperature. The unchanging monotone was certainly a prime factor why concentration was difficult.

Fortunately for him this lecture was about how poorly and unchallenging the exam had really been, which he had aced, _almost aced_. It was that, and the impossible-but-still-happened, Zala setback that irritated him the most.

As furious as he was, he could not continue his frowning marathon, because restraining the blank stare from appearing was inevitable, and took effort.

He raised his left arm, bent his elbow, and placed in onto his desk, then rested his cheek on his left palm slightly tilting his head to face the windows.

It was raining. Out of no surprise, the light drizzle had become a heavy shower, just like the weather forecast stated. He watched as the rain fell in oversized buckets from the sky, beating against the glass windows, pounding over and over, again and again.

Lowering his arm, Yzak leaned back and repositioned himself glancing at the other students. Most of them, if not every one of them, wore the same emotionless blank stare on their face as his, no doubt because of the teacher.

His eyes scanned the room, and landed on a dark brunette's head, the same one who'd been arguing with him earlier.

Never would he have expected anyone, especially a girl, to snap so fiercely at anyone, him included. That Hahnenfuss was not a fragile girl anyone could poke and get away with.

As befriended they were towards each other, it wasn't enough to stop, and couldn't possibly discourage either of them to end their constant debates against each other, whether he started it with her, or she received any slim chance to flick his ego. Even throughout the two years he'd known her for, many of their conversations had never ended quick enough without turning into an unfriendly dispute. And although he didn't _have_ to snap back at her, it was as if by instinct he had to at least say _something _for her to chew on. Only that female could never fail to push the right buttons to ignite his fuse.

She was always, and would always be, under a special category in his book.

Yzak furrowed his brows and thought back to this morning, but couldn't put his finger on it; there was something... wrong with their last argument. Even though it wasn't different from past quarrels, there was something else…something wrong with it.

Yzak frowned, unable to come up with anything other than "Something was wrong."

He quickly turned to the window hoping she didn't catch him staring, but out of the tiniest corner of his eye, he peered at her uncertain if she knew and had seen him.

Concluding that she didn't see him, Yzak tuned into his professor catching the last words of the 25 minute "Disappointment Speech": To do your chemistry midterm corrections.

"Done." He said lifting his pen.

Scanning the room, he noticed her pacing back and forth through desks, papers clutched between her hands, as her name was called from one side to the other.

Yzak assumed it was for chemistry help.

Unable to stop his up curving lips, he arose from his desk and headed towards hers once she'd taken her seat.

He placed his hands on her desk, and drummed his fingers to get her attention.

She stopped her work and frowned at him through her long brown bangs.

"How about I help you with _your_ problems now?" Yzak smirked, tilting his head, "I did get a higher mark than you."

"Don't get so cocky Jule." she said, "I'd rather ask Athrun, then I can help you with your mistakes."

With all her belongings, she arose and brushed past him as the lunch bell rang.

"Yzak!" a voice called him as he exited the lab.

He turned, it was Athrun.

"I thought I'd tell you first," he said, panting slightly, "I'm leaving this academy."

Was this a joke? Really, was it?

What was Zala thinking? That leaving would be the best way to end their competition? That him dropping out meant that Yzak would finally win one?

So Yzak did come second to Zala. So he hadn't redeemed himself yet. So he didn't step and squish Zala, but he would have, and he'd planned to do it, big time.

Yzak wasn't through, wasn't ready to give up, and wasn't going to win any by fluke.

"My father's moving his company to England, and that's where I'll be going as well." he said smiling. "You've really made me work hard," he chuckled, "Or I wouldn't have surpassed you."

Her hair swung over to her left, and she turned her head in his direction, "Have you ever thought your competing was_ always_ _one-sided_?" she said, and threw him one last statement, "What else can't you realize?"

Yzak narrowed his eyes, "So I forced you to succeed?" he grunted.

Athrun grinned, "I'd have slacked off. Besides, it wouldn't have been fair if I lost to you without trying." He held out his right hand, "You still hate me don't you?"

Yzak reached for the hand and shook it, "More than before Zala."

Leaning against a cement support outside the tall building, Yzak stood eyes closed, and motionless in deep thought about Zala's last words.

* * *

ccsketch: I spend lots of time not doing this...im a bad author... 


	4. part IIII

"_Yzak, Hey!"_ _Athrun shouted, waving from down the hall, "Send my wishes to Shiho!" _

What wishes did Zala want to send? And they were to Hahnenfuss too. Did this have anything to do with what Dearka said earlier today? Was it what he'd−

"WATCH OUT!"

His eyes snapped open, and rebound the soccer ball shooting towards him just in time.

"HAHNENFUSS!" somebody screamed, "SHIHO, THE BALL!"

Immediately, Yzak searched for her form on the field. Luckily, he saw she was just able to slide onto the ground, ducking the speeding ball nearly colliding into her chest.

He stood still, watching as a group of players ran towards her, hugging her and patting her back. Then she'd smile, return embraces, and nod at their thoughts of concern.

Yzak examined her intently, and was convinced nothing was broken; he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and sighed.

Knowing everything was fine; he turned his back to the field, and left before he saw the hurt face following him into the school.

Yzak pushed opened the cerulean umbrella stepping out of the school's automatic doors, and spotted someone walking home without an umbrella.

"Hahnenfuss!" he hollered. "HEY!"

He smirked. "Didn't you hear me?" he said, raising his umbrella covering them both as she continued muttering his name between profanities in a deathly tone.

If she had heard him, which she did and had chosen to ignore, it may have saved her from being completely drenched by the car that was driving too close to the curb.

Extremely wet, and aware of his company, she ducked under his blue cover, and hastened her steps to reach the next block.

He noticed her sudden acceleration and quickened his speed, matching hers.

This game would have continued until he was home, had his temper not already raised and steam was boiling through his umbrella. Irritated, becoming wet (even though it was avoidable), and was constantly running up to Hahnenfuss, Yzak quickly grabbed her arm and blocked her path before she could go on further and farther away.

"Hey… STOP!" he said. "_Listen_ to me; I want to tell you something!"

"I don't care." she said coldly through grit teeth.

He flung his umbrella to the side, and quickly grasped the wrist of her other arm with his free hand.

"Damn it, I _said_ I wanted to tell you something woman!"

"_I_ _said I didn't care!"_ she screamed, "More sarcasm cracks are_ definitely _what I need fromyou!"

Her large violet orbs met his narrowed sapphire spheres. They glowered at each other in utter silence, firm and unyielding. Neither blinked nor spoke.

The tension was thick, thick enough to become a force field, a field strong enough to shield both of them better than the one old plastic umbrella that had tried to.

"Just because you don't like me," she said, "doesn't mean you have to kill me...or yell at me even…_Of all the 365 days_ _this year_," she screamed, "_YOU CHOOSE MY BIRTHDAY TO DO BOTH!"_

Yzak stood in shock, eyes widening at the hot tears streaming down her angry face.

That was it. That was what Dearka said he'd forgotten. That was why Athrun wished her. He should have known, should have apologized, and should have asked when he had the chances to.

He was the only one who'd forgotten. He did forget. He did.

How it was her birthday multiplied the damage he'd done by infinities. If it was any other day, he knew she could have controlled her anger; she should have forgiven him for his temper, and would have smirked at him right after her dodge on the field.

Her birthday was today. This was her day, her sweet 16. A day that'd become no sweeter than a sugarless, flavourless, birthday cake thrown and stampeded over.

If he could do any damage control he'd need God to give him one heck of a miracle.

And if Hahnenfuss was to forgive him, she'd need one enormously large forgiving heart and a miracle no one could grant her or give to him.

Shiho could feel his grip loosen, and without any hassle, she successfully freed her wrists from his hold, and bolted across the intersection.

A deafening, ear-piercing, blast shattered his thoughts returning him to reality.

Yzak stared blankly at the illuminated character frozen in the middle of the crossroad.

The noise blared louder, repeatedly, over again and again, straining his open ears.

He saw it, it was a truck, a large truck, going too fast− unable to stop− _going to− _

"**_SHIHO!" _**

Shutting his eyes, he couldn't stop the horn from blaring louder and louder, ringing harder and harder, through his head.

He tried to think. But his thoughts jumbled themselves into one solid clump, and the noise, the noise wouldn't stop. He couldn't think. He couldn't clear his mind, couldn't stop the horn. He couldn't tell himself everything was just fine, he couldn't. It was impossible to make up any logical excuse for what'd happened.

He'd tried to lie, tried to fool himself, tried to erase the very notion, and every possible anything in his mind that told him Shiho had … died.

Silence, silence came to him, engulfing him and Yzak stood, stiller than frozen ice.

He couldn't, wouldn't allow himself to dare raise his head and look. A coward, that's what he was, Yzak Jule is a coward unable to face truth with open eyes.

Truth was the reality, the logicality; the reasons everything was the way they were. Fantasy, fiction, masks, and lies could not make up truth. Whether it hurt or relieved depended on the answer, the way it was meant to be said, the belief one had for the truth.

Yzak didn't want the truth; he wouldn't be able to handle anything of the truth.

But he wanted to tell her, tell her in truth, that all he wanted was to apologize.

Only things had gotten worse, and had become out of his control. Except, he never really had control did he; it was all apart of fate, of destiny, of a reality, of the end of life.

Death cut the threads of life, death, a word that never meant much of anything to him. People died year after year, every year, everyday even, but they didn't affect him, he didn't know them. Only now she was gone, taken to hell in a split second before he even understood what was happening.

Death was a cynical monster, an unforgiving creature able to pull and escort living souls to hell in one breath, whose laugh was louder than thousands of prayers to God, and a dastardly demon, preying on the lives of the innocent, and spared the guilty.

Even if this was, forewarned, foreshadowed, meant to end in a tragedy for her, he should have done something, anything long before everything went splat.

Yzak knew he could have done something, or nothing, said something, or said nothing. Why didn't he run to stop her? What if he'd run and pushed her from behind? Why and if, there could be so many "whys" and "what ifs", but everything he shouldn't have had done, shouldn't had have said, was said, done, and paid for, courtesy of Death.

The showering rain descended over the city without any intention to stop until all was washed clean. It beat, its rhythms on everything everywhere, the buildings, the peoples, the living souls, surrounding them in a mystical glow, including him.

The rain beat him, washed down over him, soaked through his clothes, and dripped off his silver-haired bangs. It drenched him from the hairs of his head, and seeped into his shoes to the ends of his socks. He could feel it, like blood trickled on his bare skin, around his face, down his neck, along his arms, and from his fingertips to the puddle on the ground.

He stood firmly on his feet as the rain continuously beat him, and he beat himself harder than any drizzling downpour could do, because he didn't, from the bottom of his heart ever say to her: I'm sorry.

A shrieking siren wailed from down the street towards a lone teen still on the sidewalk, drenched in the sky's tears.


End file.
